


An Asp's Nibble

by Missy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Cemetery, F/F, First Meetings, Flirting, Vampire Slayer(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her watcher warned her about women like Eponine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Asp's Nibble

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Girls Like Girls Comment Ficathon, prompt: _Les Mis Eponine/Cosette- "thank god we're hot chicks with superpowers" Buffy!AU_

Cosette only knows one thing about the mysterious girl who’s been beating her to the scene of every single slaying over the past few weeks – she’s got very nice handwriting. Her watcher Faunchelvaunt is very impressed with it too – less with Cosette’s speed, which prevented her from reaching the scene of the crime in due time.

“Be swifter, child,” he advised. “You cannot afford to be tardy and let the innocent suffer in your wake.”

So Cosette tried to be tougher, faster, wiser. It was hard not to wonder, though, about this mystery girl she’d never seen.

*** 

She finally met the girl with the impeccable handwriting in a cemetery. She was busy strangling a vamp with her bare hands before dusting it, so Cosette understandably didn’t have time for polite conversation with her initially. The vampire dead, Cosette approached her. 

“You shouldn’t be out here so late,” she said.

The girl laughed, flicked her dark hair back. “I have to be here. This is my beat.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re the other one, huh? The blonde girl who was called a couple of weeks ago?”

Cosette’s wounded bird expression must have pierced some tender part of the girls’s conscious; she frowned. “I’ve been learning,” Cosette said in defense of herself. 

“Sure you have,” the girl said. “I bet your watcher’s better than mine, eight to the bar.” She came closer, her walk cocky and assured. She brushed a lock of Cosette’s golden hair back, and the stake rattled in her grip. 

The kiss was a brush, a little asp’s nibble.

“My name’s Eponine,” the girl said, and then she walked away whistling, the Saint Stephen’s medal tied to her belt jingling with every step.


End file.
